When Prowl met Seymour Simmons
by Molten-Ashes
Summary: "We gotta do something! Prowl's teamed up with Seymour Simmons!"


Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers! (I just took the liberty to name the Coffee Maker transformer from ROTF)

Please R&R

(Crack. Enjoy!)

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><p><em><strong>==Diego Garcia=Autobot Base=Prowl's Office==<strong>_

Prowl scowled as Jazz held Sam before him, the boy dangling like a drowned cat at the SIC's optic level. "And the purpose of you holding him in front of me is?"

"You gotta admit it Prowl." Jazz tutted dumping the startled human on the infamous SIC's desk "They are cute, in a squishy, organic way."

"I resent being called a squishy!" Sam called up at the silver visored mech who shushed him in favour of focusing on the golden opticked mech that was currently writing a report.

"No, they are not cute. They are… freaky" the Praxian replied as if the human wasn't crawling around on his desk like a Cyberfly begging to be flattened. "No armour, no real fur, their skin is easily damaged… the list is endless, the only, dare I say it, good thing about them is their ability to think out of the box."

"Hey!" the slayer of Megatron shouted up at them indignantly, still getting ignored by the two highest ranking officers.

"Hush human." Prowl rumbled, his wings flaring up in annoyance, optics narrowing to two blazing spots of gold looming like a god over a humble subject, "Jazz get it off my desk and put it in the corral with the others before I find my old Cyberfly swatter."

"He means the Rec-Room" Jazz helpfully reassured the now terrified human that was neatly hiding behind Jazz's wrist when the TIC placed his servos on the desk to get into the Tacticians personal bubble. "Come on Prowler, be nice, they do populate most of the planet after all. You can't be dark and broody forever."

"I can and I will," Prowl grumbled his doorwings flaring higher, curving into a graceful 'v', a clawed finger, part of a set of four that had ripped Shockwave's optic from his helm when they had found the SIC grappling with the logic driven Decepticon nearly a week ago, pointed towards the door, the claw glinting in the mediocre lighting of the blank office filled with data-pads.

Jazz sighed, scratching a curved audio horn, plucking Sam from the desk and letting the human make a break for it, both bots watching the young man sprint across the floor and out of the door.

"Prowl," Jazz sighed leaning on the pristine desk his visor locking with his mate's golden gaze. "Come on. There has to be at least one human you like on base; I even dumped Sam on you! Do you know how long I had to stalk and blackmail him to even step in here?"

"They are mediocre creatures that we have to dumb down our language to speak to." The Tactician sniffed disdainfully, his doorwings flared out around his shoulders. "I find no joy in talking to them."

"Ah, Mister Sophistication." Jazz giggled leaning over to place a chaste kiss on his bondmate's pouting lip plates. "Come on Prowler, for me?"

"Very well Jazz." Prowl grumbled, never one to resist his mate's pout, rising from his desk chair with a frown. "One human and if I don't like him or her, you stop bringing me them like a cyber-cat taking a dead turbo-bird home."

The dazzling grin his bondmates face made the Praxian cringe internally as his wrist plating was grabbed and he was yanked out of the door.

_**==Rec-Room== **_

The Rec-room was blissfully empty at this time of day and Seymour Simmons couldn't have been happier. He was currently manning the couch and bravely taking control of the thousands of channels that the TV remote provided. He stopped on a car racing channel, a special about neon lighting and street racing lighting up the massive empty space.

He leaned back with a sigh, clutching his coffee close as Bean, the demented coffee obsessed Coffee maker, clambered up behind him on the sofa peering closely at the brew he hadn't actually made.

"I didn't make that." The little coffee maker that used to belong to Sam's mother commented spitefully, sharp little talons flexing as if to snatch the ex-Sector Seven agents cup and trundle off to make the man a 'proper' brew.

"I know." Simmons replied smugly shoving the little transformer away as it made a swipe for the Star Wars themed cup that held the shop bought coffee Bean was sure he had destroyed in a fit of jealous rage. "Go away."

"But I make the coffee!" it whined, the coffee maker now scrambling all over the human male as the cup evaded him.

"Bean." Rumbled a deep baritone voice making the little coffee maker hiss as the black and white SIC of the Autobots strode into the Rec-Room, his silver saboteur mate following him like a shadow as they went to pick up some afternoon energon. "Leave the human alone."

The coffee maker snarled trotting off back to his spot in the kitchenette right next to the microwave, grumbling under his breath about how he would find the 'evil shop bought abomination and destroy it' as he transformed back into a coffee maker.

"Agent Simmons I believe." The SIC of the Alien robots asked as Seymour scowled at his now cold beverage.

"Yep." The man replied, not inclined to chat as he sulked over his ruined coffee break, "Nice to meet you… Prowl?"

The Praxian mech nodded his chevroned helm as Jazz giggled, bouncing forward. "Hi, Simmy!"

"It's Simmons! Say it with me Sim- mons!" the human snapped up at the silver TIC as he blocked the view to the television.

"I would save your breath Mr. Simmons." Prowl interjected as the organic looked ont eh verge of exploding, he was that red in the face. "Once Jazz bestows a nickname, he never lets it drop."

"Oh the joys." Seymour snapped in a huff. "If it's not silly soldiers being idiots in the training room, its giant robots getting my name wrong!"

"I know exactly how you feel." Prowl replied blandly though his voice held a note of interest.

Jazz, sensing a breakthrough, grinned broadly. "Well, if you two are happy chatting, I'll be off to report to Optimus!"

With that the silver bot danced from the room, his radio on full blast.

"How in Primus' name did I end up bonded to him?" Prowl asked rubbing his gold optics with a clawed servo in exasperation.

"Beats me, were you… oh how did Skids say it… overcharged?" Seymour asked in amusement as he dumped his cold coffee on the table and picked up a well used paper. "What I wouldn't give for a crossword right now…" the human sighed wistfully as he turned to the puzzles page, only to see scribbles of every language, even a few Cybertronian Glyphs crisscrossing his favourite puzzle .

Prowl tilted an optic ridge and his neutral stoic faceplate split into a small smile, thinking maybe this human wasn't all that bad, he seemed like a quick witted organic. "Mr. Simmons. Would you perhaps like to play chess?"

_**==A Few Days Later== **_

"We gotta do something!" Jazz cried in a panic as he burst into Optimus' Office startling the Prime as he signed his data-pad filled with what Jazz presumed were important military things. "Prowl's teamed up with Seymour Simmons! They just pranked Sunstreaker and Sideswipe!"


End file.
